


Unacceptable

by NorroenDyrd



Series: Tranquility [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Oculara, Tranquil Mages, Warden Felix Alexius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 03:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15832632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: After the Inquisitor exiles the Grey Wardens, Felix Alexius has to withdraw from Skyhold among their ranks - but not before saying goodbye to one of the Inquisition's Tranquil researchers. This is to be their final farewell, for more reasons than one.





	Unacceptable

 The young Warden has been a frequent guest in the mages’ tower, but there shall be no more visits after tonight. The Inquisitor has ruled the order that this young man recently joined to be too untrustworthy, too susceptible to corruption - and thus, the Wardens are leaving, column after silver-armoured column marching solemnly into the night. The Inquisitor’s justice is swift and cold like a winter wind; there are no exceptions to be made, neither for the aging bearded warrior who used to be counted among the inner circle, nor for the fresh Tevinter recruit.

The Wardens are leaving, and he is to follow - but not after one last, farewell visit. One last conversation with the ever-toiling Tranquil in his murky, remote corner amid stacks of scrolls and tiny bastions of pulsing runes.

‘I… I have to…’ he begins, needles in his chest, glaring bleary-eyed at his feet. Even though the raw red swirls have begun to fade, he is still unable to look at the sunburst brand - burned into the flesh of a captured prisoner by the Inquisitor’s personal order, justice swift and cold, to lock away the magic that would have unravelled the world.

'I know,’ the Tranquil says, with a smile. He himself no longer feels the impulse to move his facial muscles more than is necessary for speaking - but he still remembers that this is something that someone does when a person needs reassurance. Support.

'I know. We have been informed. Thank you for coming to see me before you go’.

His voice is flat, as always. Which makes the Warden even more distressed. And which, in turn, is unacceptable. The Tranquil is not certain why, but the thought does not leave him. This is unacceptable. The Warden - this particular Warden - being distressed is unacceptable.

There is little he can do to alleviate the effect, unfortunately - but he does have the capacity to withhold some information that would have made the Warden even more distressed. News that he, too, is not to remain here for much longer.

A certain ago, the Inquisitor was made aware of his role in the making of the Oculara - and now, he is to face his ultimate punishment. He will be beheaded, and his skull used to track down the shards that will lead the Inquisitor to the source of power hidden amid the sands. Though this is not as much about power as about justice. Swift and cold.

He should be reluctant to die; Tranquil generally are, self-preservation instinct being at the forefront of their cleansed, emotion-free minds. But he has not been thinking of death much, even upon learning of his renewed sentence. He has mostly been thinking about the Warden.

Well, perhaps it is self-preservation instinct, after all: he remembers that the Warden carries his blood, his name, some of his features, being the result of him - another him, the one that suffered from emotions - impregnating a woman almost thirty years ago. Perhaps it is that. He does not know.

'Take care of yourself,’ he says, in his empty voice, extending his hand for the Warden to shake. He has to say these words, to give the Warden this warning - for any alternative to him taking care of himself would also be unacceptable.

'I will,’ the Warden promises, clutching at the steady, cold fingers and taking a huge shuddering breath. 'And you… You do too, all right?’

The Tranquil says nothing, for he has no ability to lie. And the alternative would be unacceptable.

He is still smiling as he watches the Warden leave - lips thin and tense, a mask that he tries, and fails, to make less distressing. And after the door thuds shut, he blinks and says, under his breath, the words that still hold meaning, even though the feeling they describe is lost to him,

'I love you, Felix’.


End file.
